


Sursum Corda

by Viridian5



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Drama, Farfarello Being Farfarello, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Schuldig is sent to entice Farfarello into returning to Schwarz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sursum Corda

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers. All things _Weiß Kreuz_ belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
> 
> Read-through by Rosaleendhu.

“I’ve located Farfarello,” Crawford said, looking up from his laptop.

“Where _did_ our little lost lamb end up?” Schuldig asked.

“Rome. Sometimes Vatican City.”

Schuldig had to laugh. “His dream vacation. No wonder he didn’t come back to us.”

“Those fools brought him on a mission in Switzerland, not far from the border. I suppose he couldn’t resist the temptation to take his obsession to Italy.”

“Why didn’t Eszett hunt him down and punish him?” If Schuldig had gone AWOL that long Eszett would have taken him down and wiped the floor with him. Of course, Farfarello being impervious to most kinds of pain made it more difficult to punish him.

“A combination of me asking them not to and them being somewhat dismayed by what he did to that team. Hopefully, other teams will be too discouraged to try to poach him from Schwarz. I want you to bring him back to us.”

“Me alone?”

“Yes.”

“Just what do you expect me to do?”

Crawford smirked. “He likes you.”

“As much as he likes anybody.” They fucked and hunted together sometimes, occasionally both at once. “Are you whoring me out?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Not exactly a no.

Looking annoyed, Crawford said, “I’m not demanding you sleep with him. I’m saying that if you want to do it and you think it would help get him back, feel free to.”

“Well, as long as I have your _permission_....”

“Stop being so damned thin-skinned. You know what I mean.”

Schuldig knew he’d been more irritable and easier to aggravate lately but would never admit that to Crawford. “You better be paying for everything.”

“As long as you don’t get too extravagant. Consider this a Schwarz mission.”

“How do we know Eszett won’t swoop in on him the moment Schwarz gets him back?”

“Don’t worry about it. I have ways of making sure.”

* * *

Italian felt so different in Schuldig’s brain than German, and he didn’t know if he liked it. Still, Italy had its charms, and he intended to take advantage of being away from Crawford’s judging eyes and penny-pinching tendencies to have himself a Roman holiday.

As Schuldig scanned the front pages of the papers at a newsstand he saw some articles about what had to be Farfarello’s handiwork, stories of parishioners and priests brutally murdered, sometimes hacked to pieces. The little bastard had been busy.

Suddenly Schuldig felt Radio Schwarz come online and a familiar presence nearby. He picked up the closest paper, tossed some money down, and walked in the direction he sensed it in.

The man who walked toward him smiled, the smile widening the closer he came. When had Farfarello dyed his hair the color of fresh blood? It threw Schuldig off a bit. It also made Farfarello look oddly... cuter, even with his scars and eyepatch.

“Are you flesh or are you spirit?” Farfarello asked in English once he stopped in front of Schuldig.

“Definitely flesh,” Schuldig answered in the same as he started to smile. “More fun that way.”

“Agreed.”

“Couldn’t resist the urge to take a pilgrimage?”

He grinned. “That team of fools brought me so _close_ to the pope. I thanked them for it by killing them swiftly.”

“Switzerland is close? It’s a whole other country.”

“Quibbles. It was close enough, so close that I heard something like a dog whistle pitched to me, saying, ‘Come, Farfarello. The harvest is _ripe_.’ Too bad the pope is so well guarded that I’ve had to content myself with his flock until I figure out a way to get him.”

“So you’re here, doing what you love to do. Aside from getting to kill the pope.”

“Yeah. I imagine that you’re here to take me back.”

“Crawford doesn’t mind you killing those poachers for daring to take you from us, but he wants you to get back to work.” Plus, they had three very old farts to eventually kill. “It ticks me off that we had to hunt you down since you didn’t come back on your own, pope or no pope.”

“But I do appreciate it. Hmm. I’ll need time to figure out a way through the defenses to get to the pope, so I might as well return with you, but I’d like you to come home with me first.”

“You have a _home_ here?”

“Of sorts. Come in off the street to see my etchings.”

Schuldig wondered what Farfarello really wanted; he couldn’t quite read it in the whirl of Farfarello’s mind, and assuming with him could be dangerous. But so far Schuldig didn’t get danger signals from him. “Sure, why not. Is it far?”

“Not far. Follow me.”

Considering the view those tight black leather pants Farfarello wore treated Schuldig to? “Gladly.” Schuldig followed him, easily matching his fast pace. “How are you paying for it, anyway? Brad isn’t paying you to kill all these people.”

“The money comes from my victims and collection boxes. If I’m already robbing them of their lives, I may as well take their coin too.”

“How practical.”

Farfarello grinned at him in a flash of teeth. “I am nothing if not practical.”

“What’s with the new hair color?” Schuldig liked it but hoped it didn’t signal some new twist on Farfarello’s mental imbalances.

“Why not? You play with your own often enough. I thought it made a nice accompaniment to my new scenery, and I do love blood. I don’t think I’ll keep on with it though. Too much upkeep. In the future, if I want to go red again I’ll just use the blood of my victims. As we’ve just observed, I’m practical.”

Farfarello apparently lived in a shabby building in a run-down area. They climbed three flights of stairs--giving Schuldig a lengthy view of Farfarello’s leather-clad assets ahead of him--to a small, very sunny apartment consisting of a kitchen that contained a small table with two chairs and a queen-sized bed, and a small bathroom. “Impressive,” Schuldig said.

“My needs are few, and none of them are sated by real estate or material possessions.”

Hot under all the light pouring through the window, Schuldig unzipped his coat, took off his hood, and fluffed out his hair. Feeling a spike of intense emotion from Farfarello, Schuldig turned to face him. Farfarello had frozen in the process of unbuttoning his coat, and his eye was wide and rapt as he looked at Schuldig. Schuldig saw himself through it, the way the sunlight in his hair gave him a nimbus of bright color, almost like a devilish halo. It didn’t surprise Schuldig at all to suddenly have Farfarello pressed up against his body, his hand in his hair to tilt his head down, and his lips hard upon his, radiating lust.

Why not? It felt good....

Hard and hungry, they ground against each other and tore off their clothes, coats flying across the room. Farfarello undid one of the straps of Schuldig’s gun rig and bared his teeth against Schuldig’s lips at the thump the gun and leather made as it hit the floor. Lust made his fingers slightly clumsy as he undid the silver buttons on Farfarello’s black, close-fitting, double-breasted tunic-like thing. They seemed to have some kind of heraldic symbol on them. Schuldig approved of Farfarello’s current fashion sense. The tunic thing made a clank when it hit the floor, suggesting that the bottom part of it held some small blades. So many lovely scars revealed....

Farfarello tore some of the buttons off Schuldig’s shirt and pulled it down his arms. Still kissing fiercely, Farfarello pushed him back against the kitchen counter, unbuttoned the top button of his fly, unzipped the rest, and pulled his pants down.

Farfarello breathed out a laugh. “Nice underwear.”

“My style is avant-garde.”

Farfarello pulled his fingerless gloves off and tossed them to his sides, dropped to his knees, pulled the neon green thong down, and gave Schuldig’s hard cock a long, loving lick--all that knife licking he did made him an expert in such things--before taking it into his mouth so deeply that Schuldig could feel the back of his throat and sucking. The sensation made him buck and grip the spiky red hair on that bobbing head. He loved the red. Once the hair pulling started Farfarello made a pleased sound around Schuldig’s cock that made Schuldig shiver from how good it felt. With Schuldig feeling Farfarello and Schuldig radiating his sensations out, their lust and pleasure fed each other. Farfarello let him fuck his mouth for a while before pulling away, smirking at Schuldig’s frustrated grunt, and messily licking his fingers before returning to the excellent blowjob. Schuldig moaned as Farfarello stroked the space behind his balls and ended up rimming him then moaned deeper and came as fingers thrust up into him. So good....

Farfarello swallowed and kept finger-fucking Schuldig as Schuldig made little whining sounds. After he gave Schuldig’s cock a last lick, he said, “You’re easy.”

“You’re complaining?” Schuldig answered as he rocked on those scissoring fingers. He looked down to see Farfarello jutting out of his open fly. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“You wanna take my ass?”

“That’s a stupid question if you look at the situation.”

“I have condoms and lubricant in my coat pocket.”

“The boy scout from Hell, as ever.” He slid his fingers out, to Schuldig’s grunt of complaint. “Turn around.”

“You’re gonna fuck me over a kitchen counter? You don’t have a jot of romance in you.”

“Hnh. I’ve changed my mind. Where the fuck did your coat go to.... There.” Farfarello walked to the bed and the coat then went through the pockets. “You eat such junk....”

Farfarello still had bandages wrapped around his arms in places and a sheathed knife strapped just above one wrist. Hot. Farfarello wore twelve-eye boots but only laced them to a bit above the ankles and tied the laces around and around at that point; he probably had more knives strapped above that and hidden by the shell of the boots. Schuldig continued enjoying the sight of his ass and legs in those leather pants.

“Those are emergency rations.” Between his fast metabolism and his powers, he sometimes needed a quick pick-me-up, so he stocked his pockets with candy, little bags of peanuts, and beef jerky.

“Junk.” Once he had what he wanted in his hands, he put the condom on and slicked himself in long strokes. “Come here.”

“Lie down on the bed on your back.”

“Bossy.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.” Farfarello untied his boots and kicked them off, revealing sheaths strapped to his legs, then was on his back lying on his bed. “If you’ll kindly grace my cock with your presence....”

Schuldig snickered, stepped out of the puddle of clothes, and walked over. He straddled Farfarello’s legs but put some necessary space between them and his ass before grabbing the lubricant. “The sun’s right in my eyes.”

“You’re beautiful.” Farfarello reached into the coat, pulled out the sunglasses, and shoved them at Schuldig. “Now get to the part where I fuck you, you wicked creature.”

“Sweet talker.” Schuldig put the glasses on, tinting the world rose, then slicked his fingers and started to fuck himself with them, giving Farfarello a show and letting him have a mental taste of how good it felt. “Mmmmm.”

Farfarello grumbled and put his callused and scarred hands insistently on Schuldig’s hips. Taking the hint, Schuldig eased himself down on Farfarello’s cock and started to move himself up and down on it, enjoying the feel of it and the sight of Farfarello enjoying the sight. Then Farfarello really started to move, thrusting up hard and deep, and for a while Schuldig lost himself in the fucking and Farfarello’s hands on him. Feeling Farfarello come threw him into a second orgasm.

Schuldig lost a few minutes after that, and when his brain came back online found himself lying on his side in a patch of sun with his glasses off while Farfarello finished taking his pants off then just about snuggled into Schuldig’s side and toyed with some of his long hair. “I missed you,” Farfarello said.

“Good.”

“That other team didn’t appreciate my talents and needs sufficiently.” Farfarello fingercombed Schuldig’s hair. “Do you want to have something new to read about in the media?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking a date maybe. You, me, weapons, and a church full of people.”

“I haven’t done anything like that in a while.” Schuldig could always tell Crawford that indulging Farfarello a little like this made it easier to get him back to Schwarz and contented there. “Sure. Let’s paint a church red. Though it might be fun to let one churchgoer survive to talk about it this time.”

“I get that.”

“Just let me catch my breath and dress. And get my snake-headed pimp cane out of my luggage, since it’s a more interesting weapon for killing the superstitious than a gun.”

“I do hope you club people with it.”

“No, I overwhelm them with my bling. Of course I club them with it.”

Farfarello grinned then kissed him. “Another go before we leave.”

“Give me a bit of time. I just came twice.”

“How you talk and talk.”

“Mmmm. Keep nuzzling my neck like that and see where it gets you.”

“I’ll do that.”

* * *

When they met at the airport and Crawford got a look at how in each other’s pockets Schuldig and Farfarello were, he looked so smug that it made Schuldig briefly regret getting it on with Farfarello, but fuck it. If he started letting Crawford’s opinion matter so much that it kept him from doing things he wanted to do, he lost.

“It’s good to have you back,” Crawford said to Farfarello as they all walked to the car.

“Schwarz makes it worth my while,” Farfarello answered.

“Though that last church visit was lurid even by your standards.”

“Schuldig had some wonderful ideas.”

“I made sure the one survivor won’t remember the right faces,” Schuldig said, “so you shouldn’t have any problems with it, o fearless leader.” Crawford should also remember that he’d told Schuldig to go the extra mile to get Farfarello back.

“I saw that from the reports. Good thinking,” Crawford replied.

“A compliment? I’ll blush.”

Nagi broke his silence to ask, “Farfarello, what will you do if your hair turns pink as the color fades?”

“Color it again,” Farfarello answered.

Schuldig laughed at the mental image of a pink-haired Farfarello slicing people heckling him into cutlets. Beautiful. He’d love to see that actually happen.

“That’s how the dye companies get you,” Schuldig said. “I was on that merry-go-round for years myself.”

“Then I’ll just bleach it and be done with it. You make things more complicated than they have to be.”

It surprised Schuldig to realize that, not-so-unusual annoyance at Crawford aside, he felt much more content now and weirdly... complete. Had he missed having a full team around him that much, without even realizing it? How stereotypical telepath of him.

How fucking annoying. He’d have to make sure no one else figured that out.

 

### End


End file.
